


grace

by sage (kiwi37)



Series: SASO 2016 [9]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 01:06:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7597348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwi37/pseuds/sage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tsukishima is a largely-forgotten god in limbo who finds a new devotee. </p>
<p>Fill for SASO 2016 Bonus Round 5</p>
            </blockquote>





	grace

Kei has been bored for a very long time. He isn’t the most inspiring of gods, he supposes—strategy and defense aren't terribly interesting concepts to most people in a land where peace has reigned for nearly three centuries, especially when there are patron deities of more concrete things like the sun and the hunt to worship. It only makes sense that his cult has dwindled severely in membership, that most of his temples have become dusty and overgrown and his offering dishes have been left empty for decades. Kei is, of course, nothing if not logical, so he accepts this turn of events with as much grace as he can summon, negligible as that amount may be.

It means, though, that he notices immediately when someone leaves an offering for him. It’s at one of his eastern temples—it’s tucked away in a forest at the outskirts of a major city, and it’s one of the larger ones, so it hasn't completely crumbled or been overtaken by nature the way most of them have. He doesn't have many followers left in this area, just a handful of old men and women perfunctorily carrying on the tradition left to them by their own elders, but it seems that some curious individual must have found him again somehow.

When he appears at the temple to investigate, Kei finds that it’s been partially cleaned—a path cleared to the altar, at least, which has been scrubbed meticulously clean and stocked with new offerings. A few dishes filled with food are neatly arranged, along with a shallow cup of wine and a partially-used stick of incense. Nothing fancy, but Kei has never cared much for grandiose gestures, anyway.

He lingers at the temple. For all that he had resigned himself to fading slowly into the strange, half-existence of a god forgotten, he can't help the excited curiosity that simmers under his skin, and he settles in, waiting patiently to see if whoever had serviced the temple will return.

It’s not a long wait. A week later, Kei perks up at the sound of footsteps rustling. They’re far down the path from the temple, and Kei takes advantage of the time, fading his physical manifestation and positioning himself so he’ll have a clear view of whoever enters.

The young man who climbs the stairs is—not what Kei had expected, exactly. He’s dressed in rough clothes, the kind that people wear to work farms or other difficult, dirty jobs, and he’s carrying a bucket in one hand and a basket in the other, with a broom tucked into the back of his belt. He has tan, freckled skin that speaks to time in the sun, and roughly-cropped hair—far from the profile of Kei’s usual devotees, back in the days when his cult had been thriving. Usually he attracted warriors, generals who preferred to wage their battles with his blessings and soldiers who prayed for him to look after their families while they were away at war, or ranked members of society, lords and scholars who asked for his help finding the path of wisdom in their affairs. Farm boys generally found their place among Daichi or Koushi’s followers, seeking an advantage with the earth or rain.

The newcomer has certainly brought his work ethic with him, though. He sets to work almost immediately, clearing debris, weeding and washing in and around the temple until the sun begins to set. He makes good headway, moving quickly and efficiently, and by the time he kneels and opens his basket to exchange the old offerings for new ones, the temple looks better than it has in nearly a century, although he doesn't seem to be done yet.

Once the new offerings are set out and the old ones packed away in his basket, the young man bows his head, hands clasped and eyes closed as he murmurs his prayer. It rings clearly in Kei’s mind and ears, as easily heard in the silence of his head as in the physical space of the temple.

“Please, help me make it into the academy. I’m sure that you’re busy with—with godly things, but I want to learn so that I can help my family. I know that maybe I don't seem like the best candidate, or I would be better off taking my problem to a different god, but I think you could help me, and in the stories I’ve found you’re always so—so clever and efficient and you get exactly what you want, you always know the best path. So—if you’re listening, if you could help me, I—” Kei wills his physical form back into existence, just behind the altar. He’s grateful that he can force his body not to blush—it wouldn't do to appear undignified after such earnest praise.

“I am listening, and that does sound like a problem I can help you with.” He smiles, only a little smug, as the youth squawks loudly and tumbles back, scrambling away from the altar. “You have my full attention.”  


End file.
